


Of Bats and Robins (and Families)

by MaskoftheRay



Series: Prompt and Circumstance [5]
Category: Justice League (2017), Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Bruce is angsty, Clark Kent has Issues, Developing Friendships, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Identity reveal (kind of), In fact they all do, Post-Canon, Prompt Fill, The Justice League meets the Batfamily, The identity is that Bruce is a dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-30 01:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19031956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaskoftheRay/pseuds/MaskoftheRay
Summary: “The Justice League knew that there was more to Bruce than he let on. This was to be expected from a man who dressed entirely in black and whose adult life had been partly a lie, so as to maintain a double identity. But they weren't expecting this. Bruce hadkids. Like, he even had an honest-to-godchild; Damian was going on thirteen this year.”Or, the Justice League meets Bruce's kids (very unofficialy).





	Of Bats and Robins (and Families)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kei/gifts).



> This is a prompt request (a very late one, sorry!) for [kei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kei): “Could you please write a DCEU fic where the JL finds out that Bruce has kids? And meets them? You can make it any genre you like.”
> 
> Also, the timeline on this is probably wayyy off, but I wanted to include everyone. So I did.

The Justice League knew that there was more to Bruce than he let on. This was to be expected from a man who dressed entirely in black and whose adult life had been partly a lie, so as to maintain a double identity. But they weren't expecting this. Bruce had _kids_. Like, he even had an honest-to-god _child_ ; Damian was going on thirteen this year. That was something no one had been expecting, not even Clark (who had super hearing, and so _could have_ figured it out) or Diana (who knew Bruce the best, perhaps, out of all of them). 

Their first clue is the horrible… display case in the cave. When Bruce lets them in for the first time, everyone is, predictably, excited. So the case, despite its (graphic, _tragic_ , really) prominence, the team almost misses it. Bruce hangs back, observing them all, as they run through the cave. Barry is obsessed with Batman’s chemical analysis setup, Victor (obviously) with the Batcave’s tech, and Arthur is looking at the small museum-worthy display of memorabilia. Clark suspects that it isn’t Alfred’s doing, for once, but rather, done of Bruce’s own (sometimes-obsessive) volition. 

Diana is standing next to him, also looking around. Her eyes fix on the case first, and when Clark hears her small in-take of air, a gasp, his gaze follows hers and his stomach sinks. _So this is what Bruce had meant by the whole ‘I don’t like powerful people dressed as clowns’ thing_ , Clark thinks. And it’s an awful realization— the suit is pretty much destroyed (and Clark knows what that looks like, what it takes, because he’s _seen_ Bruce’s suits destroyed before), graffitied, and, he thinks, possibly still bloody. 

Miraculously, Bruce hasn’t noticed their gaze on the suit yet. This is probably because he’s too busy yelling at Barry that no, he can’t just ‘poke around’ the chemistry set, because Bruce has got very important analyses running right now. Also, Arthur, get away from the freeze gun. Clark still feels chilled, and the closest thing to the current sensation he’s feeling is the chill of the grave he first felt after being… brought back. His eyes lock with Diana’s, whose own mirror Clark’s stark horror, and they move away from the case. That is a discussion, they both recognize, for another day. A discussion that should not be held in front of the entire team. 

********

The next clue (and it isn’t so much of a clue as a revelation) comes post-mission. Batman goes down, hard, and despite his vehement protests, Clark airlifts him to the cave. He’s bleeding pretty heavily from a _spectacularly_ lucky shot by one of the Intergang henchman they’re fighting. The bullet manages to enter the small chink in Bruce’s armor— the one between the shoulder plate and the chest plate. It doesn’t look like anything’s broken, thank goodness, but Bruce is losing a lot of blood and may be in a sling for a while. Just as they enter the cave, Bruce passes out. Thankfully, Alfred is waiting for them, gloves on and surgical supplies ready. Clark helps the older man de-suit Bruce and holds him down as Alfred works. It is not an experience he wants to repeat. 

About a week later, Clark comes back to the cave, to check on Bruce. He likes to think they’re past the awkward stage of their relationship (and what an awkward one it had been) and are becoming (or are) friends now. But, he recognizes that Bruce can be prickly, especially about injuries, _especially_ about being ‘rescued’ from them, and so he gives Bruce space. However, a week is enough, and if Bruce isn’t over himself by now, well then, that’s not Clark’s problem. So, he arrives at the cave, unannounced, and is shocked to hear voices. Specifically, a younger-sounding male voice, and Bruce’s own gruff (but fondly exasperated) voice reply. Clark floats curiously down the stairs and around the corner. 

Sure enough, Bruce’s arm is in a sling, and he’s sitting (grumpily) at the computer. The black-haired young man— who is halfway out of some kind of _extracurricular_ suit, Clark sees— is leaning against the back of his chair. He says quietly, “Bruce, c’mon. Go upstairs already. Alfie’s getting sick of harassing you, but you _know_ that that arm needs a break. I’ll even make us lunch.” 

At this point, Clark decides that it’s probably not a good idea to keep floating there like a stalker, so he awkwardly clears his throat, “Ahem.” The young man wheels around, looking quite surprised. Clark is mutually surprised because the man (who looks to be in his mid-twenties) _could_ be Bruce’s son, though he doubts it, somehow. Bruce spins around more slowly, probably aware of who it is who’s disturbed this… conversation. 

“Superman,” he says slowly. And that’s all he says. Clark nods, and god, _can this get anymore awkward?_

The young man continues to gawk for a moment longer, then shakes himself and looks reproachfully at Bruce. “You gonna introduce us, B?” he asks snarkily. Clark tries to stop himself from raising an eyebrow at the tone. If anyone in the league talked to _Batman_ that way, it wouldn’t end well. 

But Bruce merely rolls his eyes, and says impatiently, “Dick Grayson, also known as Nightwing, Superman. Superman, meet Nightwing.” He goes to turn around, but stops. He looks piercingly at Clark, and adds, “Did you have a reason for coming here?” 

Now Clark and Nightwing— Dick— are gaping awkwardly at each other. “Uhh,” Clark says, “no. I just wanted to see how you were doing.” 

Bruce _does_ turn around at this. “Oh,” he says, then pauses a moment. “I’m fine.” 

There’s another moment of extremely uncomfortable silence and then Clark turns to the young man and tries to smile reassuringly. He realizes he’s still floating and so sets down. He offers a hand and says, “Hi. Nice to meet you. I’m Clark. Clark Kent.” The young man recovers from his shock admirably and grins. He takes Superman’s hand and his grip is surprisingly firm in their brief handshake. 

“Nice to meet you,” he says, “I’m Bruce’s first-born. Well, _adopted_ first-born.” _Oh_ , Clark thinks, and then _adopted_ , and then _wait…. ‘first?’ because that implies that Bruce has more children_. Oh wow. 

********

“Wait. What do you mean by ‘he has kids,’ Clark?” Barry asks. 

The Justice League, most of them, anyway, are standing in a hallway of the newly-rebuilt Wayne manor; now the headquarters of the league. They’re talking about what Clark has recently discovered about their darkest and grumpiest member: Batman. Namely, they’re talking about how, apparently, the man has kids. Clark sighs. “I _mean_ , Barry, that Bruce has kids. As in, multiple. And he has at least one that’s old enough to drink legally.” Flash looks shocked. Victor raises an eyebrow, and Arthur whistles. Diana doesn’t look _that_ surprised, and stays quiet. 

“Has anyone done any _research_ into it?” Cyborg asks. _And of course that’s what he’d ask first_ , Clark thinks. 

“No,” Clark says firmly, “because that would be an invasion of Bruce’s privacy. He’s got a lot more information out there about him than any of us do— combined. So no one’s going to be doing any broad searches about him.” 

Arthur raises an eyebrow, and even Diana looks amused. “That implies that you _have_ done some researching, my dude,” he says. Clark sighs, and reminds himself that he does love the league. Even if they can be annoying sometimes. Like right now. 

“Yeah, I have. Because I work— worked— in news, and, unfortunately, the lives of America’s richest are news,” Clark starts. But Barry turns a funny shade of red, and his eyes go big. 

“What’s this about ‘the lives of America’s richest’?” Bruce asks, “I don’t need to be worried about a social revolution going on in the league, do I?” Clark jumps a little, and Diana smiles at this. Clark shoots a petulant look at her. _She was supposed to be the mature one here_. 

“No, Bruce,” she says. “We were just talking about the fact that you have children. Most of us were unaware of this.” Bruce pauses for a moment, and Clark can hear his heartrate ratcheting up for a moment. But Bruce regains control. He lets out a long breath. 

“Oh,” he says, and it comes out as genuinely surprised. “I thought you’d all looked me up, once you knew.” The rest of the league exchange eye contact, and Victor looks (unsurprisingly) smug. Diana rolls her eyes. 

“We were also just discussing that,” she says, and then, she throws Clark under the bus, “but Clark thought it’d be rude to. He was saying it put you at a disadvantage, because your life is so much more… public than the rest of ours.” At this, Bruce does snort, and sends him an amused look. Clark relaxes. Good, so Bruce _isn’t_ angry at him, for once. 

“That’s… well, I suppose, it’s kind of Clark,” he says, giving Superman another amused look, “but the concern is unnecessary. Most of the stuff out there is made up, for my cover. That, or it’s complete bullshit concocted by the gossip-mongers so they can make a quick buck. So go ahead and look, if you really want to. Or, I could just tell you myself.” There’s a bit of an edge to that last statement, Clark observes, but he can’t quite place what it may be about, so he leaves it. Just like Bruce leaves them when he’s said his part. 

There’s another moment of silence, and then Barry asks hesitantly, “Do… do any of you really think it’s a good idea to ask him things?” 

Another pause follows this one. “I’m not sure,” Clark says finally. They leave it at that. 

********

At the next league meeting, they get their next clue. It is late at night, and everyone, even Bruce, is tired. This time the clue comes from Alfred. Diana is in the middle of a story, about her latest encounter with the doers-of-evil when Alfred comes into the room, Bruce’s private phone in hand. Diana pauses. Alfred looks apologetic. “Sir,” he says, “there’s a call waiting for you from _Master Jason_. Otherwise, I wouldn’t bother interrupting. Apologies.” 

The room has gradually fallen silent, as Bruce tenses. He steeples his hands a moment, looking deep in thought, and then sighs. Clark thinks, as he’s sure the other members of the league do, _Who’s Jason?_ “Very well, Alfred,” Bruce says, standing. “I’ll take it. Thank you.” He turns to the league, a hard edge in his expression. “You should continue without me. This may take a while.” With that, he takes the waiting cellphone, and says lowly into it, “Jason? I… wasn’t expecting to hear from you. What’s wrong, son?” 

Clark, who can’t help himself, accidentally listens in. The voice on the other end also sounds young, like Dick, but, somehow, gruffer. Like he’d strained his vocal cords or smoked or something. It is also an angry voice. “Fuck you, old man! You know I don’t like you calling me that. Listen, I’m only calling because I know you’re looking into the Third Street gang, and I need your info. Some serious shit’s going down tonight, and it may affect civilians. Now dish it so I can hang up already.” 

Bruce is now out of the room, and his voice is fading. He sighs. The he replies, sounding tense (the _hurt_ kind of tense, that Clark knows. It is the kind of tense he felt when Lois gave back the ring), “Fine, Jason. I’ll get you the files. I… I’m glad you asked.” And then, Clark forces himself not to listen anymore, as the other party, Jason, launches into a string of profanities. Bruce sighs, and Clark feels pity for him. As he tunes back in, Superman sees Diana looking at him. He grimaces in return. She frowns, looking thoughtful. 

Clark sighs. 

********

The next kid is revealed entirely by accident, in probably the cutest way. Actually, he’s not much of a kid, so much as a _teen_. As they’re all hanging around the cave, probably driving Bruce up the wall, Clark hears the sound of bare feet padding down the stairs. He frowns, because nobody goes barefoot in the cave, and the only other person in the area right now is Alfred. The idea that Alfred would walk around barefooted, with _company_ present, is a non-starter. Clark tunes out Barry and Arthur’s loud argument, and turns towards the stairs. Finally, a young, tired-looking teenager appears. His hair, which looks like it’s grown out from some kind of buzzcut, is messy. He looks like he’s just woken up, despite the fact that he has dark shadows under his eyes. He’s in a pair of sweatpants and an overlarge Batman t-shirt. He’s pale, skinny, and looks like he needs a hug. But, since he’s in _this_ house, Clark suspects there’s more to him. 

The league is standing mostly behind the computer banks, so they’re not entirely visible. Also, as observed earlier, the kid looks about dead on his feet. So Clark can forgive him for not noticing the cave’s other occupants. “Bruce?” calls the teen, sounding vaguely upset, and determined. Arthur and Barry shut up. Everyone stills. 

Bruce, who’d been typing away at the computer, ignoring them, stands. “I’m over here, Tim. But, I have—” 

Before he can finish his statement, the teen ambles over, rubbing at his hair. “I need to talk to you about patrol. I have a big test coming up in Physics and I can’t—” the young man notices them, and cuts himself off. He blinks, and abruptly flushes bright red. “Oh,” Tim says, “so that’s what you were going to say. Oh.” 

Bruce sighs, but it’s more of a _fondly exasperated_ sigh than anything. “Well, Tim, I think something about patrol can be arranged. _Later_. For now, I’ll introduce you to the league. Tim, this is the Justice League. Tim is Red Robin,” he explains. 

Tim still looks small, but he puts a determined smile on as Bruce introduces him. He also looks marginally more awake. “Hi,” he says, meeting each of their gazes. “Nice to meet you all… I hope I won’t be wearing pajamas next time.” Clark laughs, and steps forward. He offers his hand, and after a moment, Tim shakes. 

“I don’t care what you wear. If you haven’t noticed, none of us are dressed very traditionally, anyways. Superman, also known as Clark Kent. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tim,” Clark says. Tim grins. Then the others introduce themselves. After a bit, Tim excuses himself again, saying that he does, in fact, need to get some sleep before his big test. 

“Night, Bruce,” he says, and, shocking the league (including Clark) he goes in for a hug. Bruce grumbles, but goes along with it. 

“Goodnight, Tim,” he says. Tim smiles, and waves at the Justice League as he heads back upstairs. 

“Your son is sweet,” Diana says, a moment later. Bruce grumbles again, but Clark can tell his heart’s not in it. 

“That he is,” Bruce agrees. After that, they all gradually wander off. It is late, after all. 

********

The next kid they meet because they wander in on an argument. 

“But Father!” exclaims the small, black-haired boy. And even his body language looks like Bruce’s. 

“Damnit, Damian, I said no!” Bruce says tensely. Damian huffs, and mutters something in Arabic. 

Bruce sharply raises his head from where he’s tinkering with the batmobile and says, “Do _not_ use that kind of language around me. And I don’t care what your mother would say, so don’t even try that argument. It’s illogical anyway.” 

Damian rolls his eyes and says, “But you let Grayson—” 

Bruce growls. He slams down the toolbox and rolls out from under the car. He stands and marches over to where Damian has his arms crossed, murderous look on his face. “I don’t _care_ what Dick said, son. And he probably shouldn’t have told you that, anyway. I was not exactly… prepared for a son when I was younger anyway.” 

Damian turns away, clearly sulking, before he mutters, “As if you are now.” 

Clark barely stops himself from letting out a shocked breath. He thinks, for a moment, that Bruce hasn’t heard. But he’s wrong. Oh, he’s _very_ wrong. Bruce stills, going completely tense. He lets out one breath. Damian seems to realize that he’s been caught out, because he goes even quieter, and waits. Finally, Bruce says, with calmly-controlled fury in his voice, “That was out of line. Go to your room, and don’t come out until dinner’s ready.” He turns away, refocusing on the toolbox. But Clark can see how white his knuckles are as he grasps various tools. 

Damian stands there, gaping a second, before saying, more quietly, and with less venom, “Father, I… did not—” 

“Go to your room,” Bruce spits out tensely, back turned to Damian. Damian lets out a small hiss of breath, and spins. He heads towards the stairs, and Clark realizes he can’t get out of the way fast enough. 

Damian pauses in front of him, and frowns. _He looks almost exactly like Bruce, but shrunken down, and younger_ , Clark thinks with an amused sort of panic. “Tt. Father,” Damian says tensely, “there’s an alien on the stairs.” Bruce sighs, from where he’s still pretending to be absorbed by his work. 

“Superman, Damian. Send him down.” 

Damian jerks his head towards his father, scowling. “You heard the man,” he says, and slinks around Clark. Clark blinks, and awkwardly makes his way over to Bruce. Who now looks pissed. 

“I assume the others are floating around somewhere, and sent you to retrieve me?” he asks sharply. 

Clark blinks, forgetting his thoughts for a moment. “Er, yeah,” he says finally. “Look. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to listen in, I only wanted to come down here and—” 

Bruce sighs, and finally sets down his tools. “It’s fine,” he says firmly, as if he needs to tell _himself_ that, “Damian’s young— he’s going to be thirteen soon— and still learning. Now, let’s go make sure the manor remains standing.” With that, he brushes off his hands, and slinks past Clark in a _very_ familiar manner. Despite himself, Clark smiles at Bruce’s back. _Like father, like son_ , he thinks. 

********

Just when they think there can’t possibly be any more kids around, they meet Stephanie Brown and Cassandra Cain (now Wayne). Actually, they don’t meet them, so much as the two young women stumble into _them_. It happens during an actually social gathering. Bruce has invited the league over to dinner. 

Even though it is a social event, nobody is surprised when Batman launches into a speech about strategy over the turkey. As he’s mid-sentence, the door to the dining room opens, and Clark hears laughter. “Hey, Bruce!” calls a blonde teen. She’s followed in by a slight-looking Asian girl, of about the same age. The black-haired teen smiles at Bruce and waves. Bruce puts his fork down and turns towards the girls. 

The blonde looks around the room, eyes widening. “Oh, hey,” she says, “I didn’t know you were having the league over. Sorry.” 

Bruce sounds like he wants to roll his eyes as he replies, “Alfred put it on the white board, Stephanie. But, since you’re here, you and Cass might as well stay. There should be enough for both of you.” Stephanie gapes at Bruce a moment, before Cassandra elbows her gently in the stomach. Stephanie shuts her mouth and rolls her eyes. 

She looks around, for the first time, eyes darting over the entire table. “We’re not gonna interrupt your dinner party, B-man. But we will steal some food.” She turns towards the league, nervous smile on her face, and waves. “Hi,” she says, “as you’ve just heard, I’m Stephanie. I’m just gonna go ahead and introduce myself, since Bruce probably won’t. I’m a former Robin, but I started out as Spoiler. Now I’m Batgirl.” She looks at the other girl, and there seems to be some sort of question in it. She steps back slightly. The black-haired girl steps forward. 

“Cassandra Wayne. I go by Cass, or Black Bat. Bruce’s favorite,” she says, looking at Bruce. 

Bruce smiles, and looks like he’s trying not to laugh. “I _don’t_ have favorites,” he says firmly. Cass shakes her head. 

Stephanie snorts. “Please, B. You _so_ do,” she says. 

Clark is brave, and goes first. Then the rest of the league introduces themselves. Steph and Cass don’t end up staying, but they do chat for a little longer before filling up their plates and disappearing. “I was unaware you had a daughter,” Diana says, “it would be wonderful if I could train with her sometime.” 

Bruce does laugh at this. “She’d love that. But you’d have to include Stephanie too. Possibly even Barbra,” he says thoughtfully. 

Diana smiles. “Of course,” she says. 

********

The last person they meet is another teenager. He's black, and tall. He looks skinny at first, like Tim, but Clark sees that he's just wiry. And if he's in the cave, he's here for a _reason_. At this point, the subject of Bruce’s kids has become a sort-of inside joke in the league. Of course, out of Batman’s earshot, that is. Bruce and the teen are bent over the computer, looking at suit schematics. Clark, having learned from his encounter with Bruce and Damian, clears his throat. The rest of the league come down the stairs. Bruce turns around and nods at Clark in greeting. 

The teen straightens up. He looks nervous. Bruce says, “Duke, meet the league. Duke works as Signal, here in Gotham. He’s a meta.” Duke waves, looking curiously at Clark, and Cyborg. 

“Hi,” he says, “it’s an honor to meet you all. As Bruce said, I’m Signal.” 

Barry steps forward, and offers his hand. “Hey, man. It’s nice to meet you too. What are your powers?” 

Bruce clears his throat. “Barry,” he warns. The Flash has knocked over some of his papers. Flash pales a bit before picking them up quicker than the eye can see. Once he’s done, he chuckles. Duke smiles, looking relieved to see that he’s not the only awkward one. 

Bruce glances between them, then turns to Duke. “You can stay if you want. But we’ll probably be doing stuff. I’ll finish updating these schematics and we can go over them later,” he says. 

Duke nods. He turns to the rest of the league, small smile on his face. “I guess I’ll probably be seeing you all around. I’ll let you get to work. Goodbye,” he says, disappearing up the stairs. They watch him leave. 

Arthur turns to Bruce. “Okay, really. You can’t have any more kids hidden around here, can you?” he demands. Barry laughs nervously, and Diana looks amused. 

Bruce sighs, and clicks out of the schematics. “No,” he says. 

After a beat of silence, he continues: “I don’t think I could handle any more kids, anyway.” There’s a moment of shocked silence, because Bruce just made _a joke_ , and then everyone bursts into laughter. It’s times like these that Clark’s glad he’s part of the league.


End file.
